


Close

by meeshiefeet



Category: Walking Dead, Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Adult Language, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-09
Updated: 2014-04-09
Packaged: 2018-01-18 19:17:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1439785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meeshiefeet/pseuds/meeshiefeet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He shoved his hand in his pocket and ran his fingers over the folded edges of paper. Each bump and tear was familiar beneath his fingers, even with the softening of time and friction. Each time they lost someone, he’d catch himself with his hand in his pocket, checking it was still there, remapping each groove to make sure it matched his memory. He hadn’t opened it yet. Couldn’t. But the Big Spot run was weighing on him now, another stark reminder of their losses. He glanced up at the stars for the hundredth time that night. Maybe it was time to face it, once and for all. He pulled the note out of his pocket and braced himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





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**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.
> 
> Spoilers through Episode 4.1 "30 Days Without An Accident".
> 
> Caryl one-shot with a lot of Merle mixed in. Angst. I wrote this after seeing a gifset on tumblr of the Merle/Carol scene in 3.15 "This Sorrowful Life" - where Merle tells Carol she is a late bloomer, and she replies that maybe he is, too. Takes place after 4.1 "30 Days Without An Accident".

He shoved his hand in his pocket and ran his fingers over the folded edges of paper. Each bump and tear was familiar beneath his fingers, even with the softening of time and friction. Each time they lost someone, he’d catch himself with his hand in his pocket, checking it was still there, remapping each groove to make sure it matched his memory. He hadn’t opened it yet. Couldn’t. But the Big Spot run was weighing on him now, another stark reminder of their losses. He glanced up at the stars for the hundredth time that night. Maybe it was time to face it, once and for all. He pulled the note out of his pocket and braced himself.

Tiny flecks of blood marred the single D scrawled on the outside. Accumulated hours of staring had burned the spatter pattern into his brain, but it hadn’t taken much to do that. The resemblance to the constellation Orion was uncanny and a little too coincidental to be comfortable. If he believed in signs from a higher power or the universe or whatever, he might have taken it as one. Might have believed that when he relieved Glenn from watch duty a few minutes ago, the younger man’s innocent remark about how much brighter the stars were without light pollution wasn’t just a fluke. He’d never believed in anything like that and wasn’t about to start. But the day had worn on him enough that the niggling voice in his head didn’t bother putting up a fight when the idea crossed his mind that someone was telling him it was time.

_Alright then_ , he thought.

He slumped down against the concrete wall. The paper resisted unfolding after the months in his pocket and he carefully smoothed it against his leg to avoid tearing. The flashlight brightened the familiar chicken-scratch handwriting and sent a fresh wave of grief washing over him.

_I hope to hell you ain’t reading this, but if you are, then it’s all over. Guess I fucked up but maybe that asshole got his while I did. Sure as shit wanted him to suffer for putting us in that ring together. For all the shit I did for him. Those things kinda reminded me of home, you know? Yeah, you know._

_Odds are I’m not gonna make it. He wants Michonne, or so he says. I don’t know if it’ll work, but maybe it’ll give you a shot at getting out of this alive. Rick’s gonna pussy out, so I figure what the hell. Why not me? I owe you that much._

_Can’t believe I’m writing this, but I guess you can’t give me shit if I’m dead, so here goes nothing. You done good, baby brother. You told me you can’t make it without people no more and you’re right. Those people you got now, they changed from before. You changed. One or two of them are still assholes, but that’s beside the point. My point is that you need to hang on to them. You made yourself a family here somehow._

_I always said I had your back. I did when it was easy. But these people, they got it no matter what. I shoulda done more for you. Can’t change that now, but maybe I can do this and make up for it some. Maybe I’m a late bloomer after all. You tell her I said thank you for that. I don’t know what’s going on with you two, but whatever it is, she’s good for you. Keep that one close._

_Guess I gotta go do this, so one last thing before I do. There’s a whole lot of shit gone wrong with the world the way it is now, but if anything good came out of it, it’s you. You’re a good brother and a good man. I’m proud of you, Daryl._

_\- Merle_

He wasn’t sure when the tears had started falling, but they were slowing as he finished reading. He flicked the flashlight off and closed his eyes. Merle’s words kept echoing in his head. Good brother. Good man. Proud. He’d heard them before, from Carol. From Dale. Never in a million years did he think he’d hear them from Merle.

"Daryl?" Carol asked, concern mingling with the softness of her voice. He hadn’t heard the tower hatch open. She was just suddenly there, putting the steaming mug of coffee on the floor and sitting next to him. "You wanna talk about it?"

He stared down at the note. “Not sure,” he replied and folded it back up. She watched as he stuffed the paper back in his pocket. She didn’t know what it was, but she had a good guess. It had appeared right after he came back from finding Merle. And she noticed how he transferred it from pocket to pocket before laundry, always careful about keeping it close. She hadn’t wanted to intrude, but her timing tonight had inadvertently caused that to happen.

"You don’t have to, you know," she answered. "But if you want to, I’m not half bad at listening. I’m also pretty good at just sitting, if you’d like that."

He looked over at her and nodded. “Sittin’s good,” he said and leaned forward for the coffee she had brought him to help him through his shift. He wrapped his hands around the mug and took a slow sip. The hot liquid soothed him a bit, but not as much as her sitting next to him, no expectations. Just there. They sat in silence until he finished the coffee.

"That note," he said, "It was from Merle. Fell out of his pocket when I…" he let his voice trail off.

"Never had the balls to read it before. He knew he wasn’t comin’ back." He paused, then added, "He said he was proud of me."

Carol shifted and turned toward him, letting him know she was listening.

"He said something else, too, about being a late bloomer. Wanted me to thank you," Daryl said. It wasn’t a question, but he looked at her expectantly.

She turned back and leaned against the wall, looking up at the stars. “I guess we all are,” she replied. “Late bloomers.”

"Yeah. Guess so," he agreed. He decided he didn’t need to know what was said. It didn’t matter. She was good for him and apparently she’d been good for Merle, too. As for what was going on between them, he’d been wanting to tell her for a long time. Wanted to now, but the words weren’t coming. If something happened and he lost her, too…. He didn’t have it in him to face another fear tonight. Next time they were alone. Then he’d tell her everything. For now he just wanted to sit with her. And keep her close.


End file.
